(Not) The First Time
by LumosLyra
Summary: ""You are married?" The way he asks the inevitable, it is more like a statement than a question. I can tell by the look in his eye that he's trying to puzzle me out, but he's coming up short. I'm certain he wonders why I'm holding his hand and staring at him the way I know I am. I hope he sees the love in my eyes."


A/N: I started this little ficlet ages ago and just needed something to work on that was a bit more light and fluffy than the current stories I have going. Also, I wanted to post something to assure everyone that I do still exist and I am still writing. This is my first time writing Hermione/Severus and I hope I did it justice. Happy reading, dear readers!

* * *

"I think I know you." He says, watching me with his careful, black eyes glittering with the depths of his intelligence. His voice is harsh and raspy from a period of disuse, though it never truly recovered from puncture wounds on his neck inflicted upon his person by Lord Voldemort's snake. I move from the faded too-stiff chair to perch on the side of his bed, the stark white sheets in contrast with my dark blue skirt.

"We're well acquainted." I remind him, gently though I'm careful not to say too much; the healers warned me against it. Tossing my curls over my shoulder in hopes they will stay out of my face, I reach out for his hand without thinking as I've done so many times before. I can't hide the pain in my expression when he recoils from me and draws back against the pillows.

"Are you someone I've hurt?" He asks, his tone cautious. I can tell he's studying me, always the scholar.

I wonder how I should answer him as he looks at me expectantly. Once upon a time, he was quite cruel to me. Knowing his distaste for concealing the truth, I opt for honestly. "A long time ago, Severus, but you've been nothing short of wonderful as of late."

"I apologize." He says, automatically, the words rolling off of his lips in his deep baritone.

"We're well past the need for apologies," I tell him with a smile as I reach my hand towards him again. I need to touch him, to feel him, to know he's alive. I can see him looking at the simple gold band on my finger as he reluctantly takes my hand in his. I feel the familiar flutter in my chest as his long, slender fingers curve around my own shorter, stubbier ones. Even though his touch is as tentative as a society witch shaking hand, I'll take it. It's more than I feel like I could hope for, at this point.

"You are married?" The way he asks the inevitable, it is more like a statement than a question. I can tell by the look in his eye that he's trying to puzzle me out, but he's coming up short. I'm certain he wonders why I'm holding his hand and staring at him the way I know I am.

I hope he sees the love in my eyes.

"I am." I say, though I can't help it when my eyes drift to where his own simple wedding band rests, the one I put there some ten years ago.

_The__first__time__ever__I__saw__your__face__  
I__thought__the__sun__rose__in__your__eyes__  
And__the__moon__and__the__stars__were__the__gifts__you__gave__  
To__the__dark__and__the__endless__skies_

I stand nervously to the side of a large room with several other witches dressed in varying shades of whites, creams, and ivories. I was offered a choice, marry or lose my magic. I'm not entirely certain what our world has come to, but I can barely hold myself together at the thought of marrying a stranger and attempting to live the life I want to lead.

What expectations might he hold of me? What might I hold of him? Could we grow to love one another? Would we even want to? Are we destined for happiness or misery? These are the questions that flood my inquisitive mind as I wait.

"Abbott, Hannah Marie," a voice calls out from the side door. The comely witch a simple cream gown nervously wrings her hands as she crosses the space and passes through the door. A door I will very soon be passing through.

Witches pass through the doors, but they don't come back through this room so we've no idea who they've been matched with. I was one of the first of my friends to be called. No one else I know has received their summons to my knowledge, though I'm not in the first wave of those to be married. Draco Malfoy's match to Astoria Greengrass made headlines, though it was just Rita Skeeter speculating that his father managed to somehow pay off the Unspeakables to ensure his son was matched with a pureblood witch.

When "Turpin, Lisa Elaine" is called next, my anxiety increases as I realize they are calling their names at random. I could be called next or I could be the last to be called. I stare out of the window I'm standing near, down onto the unassuming streets of muggle London. I stay that way until I hear my name.

"Granger, Hermione Jean."

I smooth my hands over my simple, tea-length ivory gown and square my shoulders. I can't let whoever is on the other side of that door see me in a moment of weakness lest they think to exploit it. The war may be over, but it feels as if a new one could begin at any moment with my marriage and I know I shouldn't let my guard down until after everything is over and done with.

As I pass through the doors my vision becomes obscured, though I do not stumble. I know I must only walk a straight line and someone will tell me when to stop. When I stop at what I know is in front of the officiant, I can just make out the shadow of his form through the haze which obscures my vision. He cuts a tall, striking figure, though I suspect his vision is similarly obscured.

We're instructed to clasp our hands so the ceremony can begin. Rather than clasping my hand as though he would shake it in a business-like fashion, he intertwines his fingers with mine. It's almost a promise of doing what is necessary to make this work. In that moment, I think we both fully understand this is for life and though we had no say in the matter, it's up to us to make it a success.

I'm suddenly struck by the fact that there may be some sort of persuasion spell cast upon this room to elicit these thoughts. I think he senses my hesitancy, because he holds my hand more tightly than before.

The officiant begins the spell which will join us as husband and wife for the rest of our days. I feel the sheer force of his power as our magical cores are entwined, much in the same way our hands are. I hear the officiant gasp, clearly he hadn't been anticipating whatever is happening behind our mutually obscured vision.

In a shaky voice, he instructs us to repeat the vows. I do so automatically, my body and mind adjusting to feeling the presence of him as though he's coursing through my veins not my very own blood and magic.

When the spell obscuring our vision is released, I'm a gazing into a pair of inky, black eyes as dark and soothing as the night sky, though there are no glittering stars within his gaze.

I watch as the corners of his eyes rise and I know there's a smile on his lips. One of those rare, approving smiles that I craved in my youth, but never saw. I can only imagine what thoughts are racing through his mind. He must be pleased? Or perhaps he's smiling because he's struck by the ridiculousness of the situation.

He simply lifts my hand and feathers a kiss against the curve of my fingers. "Madam." His tone is warmer than I ever would have expected and for the first time since this stupid law passed, I feel as though I have some sliver of hope.

"Severus."

_The__first__time__ever__I__kissed__your__mouth__  
I__felt__the__earth__move__in__my__hand__  
Like__the__trembling__heart__of__a__captive__bird__  
That__was__there__at__my__command__my__love_

"Are you off, then?" We're sitting at the small breakfast table in our suite with him in his teaching robes and me in my garish fuchsia robes of a healer-in-training, though I've finished my cup of tea and my toast while he is barely halfway through his full English.

"I won't be back until late." I frown. I don't like being away from our cozy suite of rooms in the Hogwarts Castle for too long. It's felt like home from the moment we arrived here, a week after the day we were married.

Our suite is made up of a sitting room next to a breakfast nook and a small kitchenette. Down a short hallway is a bathroom with the most luxurious tub I've ever laid eyes upon. My bedroom is across from the lavatory and is decorated in warm shades of beige and blue while his is next door to mine and minimally decorated in shades of white and grey. The spare room has been converted into a small library of sorts and door to Severus' private potion lab at the end of the hallway has been heavily warded.

He reaches across the table and grasps my hand, intertwining our fingers together. The simple gesture gives me comfort and has since the day we married. It took us ages to be completely comfortable around one another, but we've managed to make a good go of things.

"You mustn't fret, my dear. You'll do quite well." He's started calling me that recently, though we still sleep in separate rooms and go for days at a time without seeing one another between his duties to the school and my training schedule. It's a miracle that we manage to take time at breakfast.

I give my best attempt at a reassuring smile, though I can see he isn't convinced.

"Hermione, you received Oustandings in all of your N.E.W.T.s. I've no doubt that you'll receive similar marks in your healer examinations." He squeezes my hand and I see his eyes drifting towards the simple gold band adorning my finger. It's hard to believe some days that we're married, but I'm reminded each time a colleague says "Madam Snape", though once I've passed my examinations, I will be "Healer Snape."

It's only a few short weeks until that will hopefully be the case. I wanted to keep my maiden name but under the law, we weren't allowed. They are still fighting it in the courts, but each time the advocates and council members bring the case before the Wizengamot, they are met with more and more resistance. I don't know that I would request a divorce or an annulment if it were ever to be repealed. Being with Severus is safe and I think I love him, in my own way. It could just bit a bit of hero worship with everything he did for us during the war after Harry extolled his virtues for the public – obviously against Severus' wishes.

The majority of my friends seem happy with their matches though no one really ended up with who they thought. Harry and Hannah even have a baby on the way. No one else has even seemed to contemplate children at this stage, but I wouldn't be surprised if Ron and Parvati announce their pregnancy next. They are disgustingly in love and can barely keep their hands off of one another. Neville is surprisingly content with his marriage to Daphne Greengrass and has even made amends with Malfoy. Ginny was paired with Oliver Wood and they seem to be living the Quidditch dream with Oliver playing for Puddlemere and Ginny for the Harpies. Somehow, they make it work.

I'm not the only one who got paired with someone several years older than myself. After Narcissa Malfoy passed away, Lucius Malfoy, who somehow managed to escape Azkaban, ended up paired with Cho Chang and from what I hear from Luna, the former Ravenclaw is handling her duties as the new matriarch of the Malfoy family quite admirably. Luna managed to match with Charlie Weasley and seems to be having the time of her life cataloguing the wildlife of Romania while her husband works on the Dragon Reserve.

"Thank you, Severus," I say with a smile. With a flick of my wand, I send my dishes to the kitchenette to wash themselves so as not to make more work for the house elves. I grab my bag and make my way to the floo but I turn around and march back to the breakfast table.

My husband is looking at me with one of his calm, cool stares and is probably wondering what I've forgotten. His expression changes however, when I lean down and lightly press my lips against his own – the first kiss we've shared since our wedding day.

I feel something warm spread through my chest as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me down into his lap. It's like he's been holding back, waiting for me to make the first move but now that I have he's never going to let me go. It's a heady feeling.

I finally make it through the floo seven minutes later, much less put together than I was when I sat down for breakfast.

_And__the__first__time__ever__I__lay__with__you__  
I__felt__your__heart__so__close__to__mine__  
And__I__knew__our__joy__would__fill__the__earth__  
And__last__till__the__end__of__time__my__love_

For as long as I can remember, I have always hated thunderstorms. When I was just a child, I would climb into bed with my parents every time I heard the soft pitter-patter of rain just so that I would be somewhere safe when the inevitable flashes of lighting and roaring thunder began.

When we were on the run from Voldemort, hunting horcruxes, I found myself sandwiched between Harry and Ron on those nights where the storms rolled in around us. My best friends never made a big deal out of it – I think we needed the closeness and kinship on those dark, lonely nights when our bellies were empty and our minds were exhausted.

Because of this absurd fear of mine, I manage to find myself standing outside of Severus' room at two o'clock in the morning trying not to screech with every clap of thunder.

As I bring my hand up to knock on his door, finally gathering my courage to do so, the door swings open. He's wrapped in a worn flannel robe and looks beyond exhausted. I stare sheepishly at the floor, my arms wrapped around myself.

"Hermione, are you alright?" he asks, his voice rough with sleep. I'm not sure how he knew I was outside of his door but it's clear he was asleep a few minutes ago.

A flash of lightning illuminates our suite before I can respond. I'm doubled over on myself and then suddenly I'm not. A pair of warm, strong arms envelope me. I vaguely register he's whispering something in my ear but the words may as well be spoken in Mermish for all I can understand what he's saying. I'm utterly petrified by the severity of the storm. Smaller ones I've grown to handle on my own with silencing charms, meditation, and a bit of firewhiskey but somehow, this one is the worst we've seen this season.

I'm led into his room and towards his bed. I vaguely register the depression of the mattress as I climb into his bed. He tucks me close to his body after he sheds his robe and I realize mine is hung on a hook on the back of the door, next to his own. Pulling his arms around me, Severus presses a kiss to the top of my head and rubs my back. I know I'm trembling but I try to remind myself that he's safe; that I'm safe in our suite at Hogwarts.

The logical side of me knows all about the weather phenomenon known as a thunderstorm but the emotional side of me cannot handle the noises and the flashes of lights. My nightmares of my time at Malfoy manor have pretty much abated but of course, I have to be consumed with fear over a stupid weather pattern that occurs like clockwork every spring.

I start to come back to myself as the storm subsides. I realize how tightly I've been clutching onto the Severus' night shirt and I loosen my grip – preparing myself to pull away and retreat back to my own room. But Severus doesn't loosen his grip on me. He continues to hold me tight and feather kisses against my curls and my forehead all while he strokes my back.

"Stay," he says in his quiet, commanding way. I know he'll not force me if I choose to leave, but I find that I don't want to leave. I want to stay wrapped up in his arms where I feel safe, warm, and loved. I wonder if he loves me – we've never said those words to one another, but I can't help but wonder. He always prepares my tea the way I like it. He brings me books to read before placing them in the Hogwarts library and always marks passages in his journals he thinks I will like. I tidy up his potions lab from time to time and ensure he's taken a lunch when I have my own lunch break at work. When I know he's had a rough day, I make sure to stop by Honeydukes before coming home to bring him a tin of treacle fudge.

I rest my head back against his chest and simply breath in the scent of him. His breath evens out before mine does and I know he's fall asleep. I whisper how I feel about him into the warm, night air and if I didn't know he was fast asleep, I would swear his arms tightened around when he I told him I loved him.

_The__first__time__ever__I__saw__your__face__  
Your__face__, __your__face_

I see the recognition suddenly cross his features as the flood of memories return. This is the longest stretch we've gone where his memories have vanished. Severus' hand grasps mine with familiar firmness and he changes the way our hands are joined so our fingers are intertwined. My exhale of breath is audible as sheer and utter relief courses through me.

"_My_ wife."

He opens his arms up to me and I tuck myself safely into his embrace. It's only been a few days, but it feels like an eternity has passed since I've been in my husband's arms.

"How long this time?" he asks.

"A few days," I mutter before peppering his cheeks with kisses in the silly way that I know drives him batty. He scowls at me and chides me under his breath, but he doesn't let go as I smile at my husband, grateful to have him back in full possession of his faculties.

"The children?"

"Will join us this afternoon."

He gives me a rare smile and nuzzles his nose against mine before kissing my lips and resting his forehead against mine. "I love you."

"I love you too, Severus."


End file.
